#yes this is the US healthcare system how did you guess

[littlefankingdom]

Everytime something happens in France in a comic, I realize how little researches comics writers do. And like, if they are this bad with my western country, how bad it is with third-world countries they talk about???

In Nightwing (2016), Raptor is from a circus that was near Paris during Mary Grayson's childhood, so more than 40 years ago at least.

In this flashback, they accuse the mayor of Paris of having given leprosy to the romani and of keeping away the meds they need. Already, with our healthcare's system, it's hardly possible, as they would be able to go to a hospital to get the help they need. Do they think "public healthcare" means the state has a direct control on medication, because that's not the case at all. The French gov control the money put into medication, how much is bought, but a mayor has no power over this. I just don't understand how something like this could happen. You can totally write a racist medical scandal in France, but makes it make sense with our system.

But also, Paris didn't have a mayor until 1977, so if it's before 1977, impossible. And, Paris' mayor from 1977 to 1995 is JACQUES CHIRAC, who was the PRESIDENT after. They wrote a story implying that a French President kept medications away from sick people, was discovered and was still elected President. And, yes, the French government is far from good and they have deeply harmed the romani, but like, maybe don't write shit like that. (Also, Chirac was really against the war of Iraq, and stood up against the US, which France is still paying the price for to this day. So I don't really like an USAmerican to criticize Chirac. Like, we can do it, others can do it, but not USAmericans, y'all have done enough) I'm pretty sure that wasn't the goal of the writers. No, what happen is that they didn't do researches about Paris' mayor and so, wrote that shit.

This may be inspired by the contaminated blood's scandal in the 80s-90s, which was worst in France, but no mayor was found guilty, it was doctors who knowingly contaminated patients with a deadly illness. And the French government was held accountable, even if they had no hand in it, as a matter of principle.

I understand it's a fiction, and they didn't literally wrote "Chirac did this", but it's kind of clumsy. (Especially because of everything I wrote earlier about Chirac's politics and how the US is still punishing France for being against killing civilians and destroying Iraq. France was doing the right thing, and the US worked so France would go back in line and treat Arabs like shit. Do not think western countries are free from the US' imperialism)

And in no way I'm saying that you cannot write France being awful, I know my gov's crimes (rn, they have deported homeless out of Paris for the Olympics, the President is refusing to acknowledge the left won the elections and to take a leftist prime minister so we have no prime minister since mid July and fuck democracy I guess, they support Israel's crimes against humanity, and are behaving like the colonizers that they are in New-Caledonia, sending the armies against the Kanaks that have not enough power on their own land), I'm just saying it should at least be believable enough to work. (Easiest way: make the cops racist. Boom. Also, French cops talk like vilains, it's insane.) And also, not about someone touchy like clumsily painting badly a president that was punished by the US for doing the right thing.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper, Olivia and the Beaumonts arrive in Rome... but not everyone is happy to see them

Word Count: 5,300

Rating/Warnings: None (for once 🤣)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Lots of Italian and random cultural/historical tidbits in this... but, then again, we are in Italy, so the foreign language aspect will be a bit of a running theme through the next few chapters (sorry...not sorry - I actually learnt some Italian in the process!)

A/N2: @aussiegurl1234, before you ask, yes, I HC that Vito bears a striking resemblance to Michele Morrone 😆

Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

"How is it hotter here than in Cordonia?" I gasp as I step out onto the jet's airstairs.

"Italy is a peninsula," Olivia says from behind me, slotting on a pair of Versace cat-eye shades. "It is more exposed to the anti-cyclones that blow up from the Sahara."

My mouth drops as I make my way down onto the steaming tarmac. "This heatwave... is coming from Africa?"

No wonder it feels like the inside of a furnace!

"It certainly isn't coming from the Arctic!" bemoans Bertrand as he shields his face from the intensity of the rays with an upraised hand. "Though what a welcome change that would be!"

"Brr...!" objects Maxwell with a shiver. "No thank you! I've had my yearly fill of sub-zero temps at Olivia's!"

"You're welcome," comes the snippy response as the Duchess of Lythikos strides past us.

"That said, turning the mercury down a few notches wouldn't hurt..." I remark, squinting accusatorily up at the beating sun.

"The summer heatwaves have been growing longer and more intense over recent years," Olivia advises from up front, "leading to consequent effects on food and water security, power generation, infrastructure, not to mention the added burden on the healthcare system across Europe. It is one of the items on the agenda for Christian's roundtable with the Italian Prime Minister tomorrow."

I frown as I arrive at the passenger-side door of the first in a trio of waiting Porsche Macan GTS's. "I thought this was supposed to be an engagement tour..."

"It is," she confirms as a black-suited Italian sporting close-cropped hair and aviators opens the door for her. "But any foreign visit involving a high-ranking head of state is — by its nature — a diplomatic event as well."

"I guess that makes sense," I concede, sliding into the relative reprieve offered by the SUV's A/C system. "Though you said Christian is meeting with the Prime Minister tomorrow... I thought that was supposed to be today. Did something change?"

"No," derides Bertrand as he settles in next to me. "Today, the King is partaking in a meet-and-greet with the Italian President, followed by a private audience with the Pope while the future Queen is fitted for her wedding trousseau, capped off by dinner and a performance of Tosca at the Teatro dell'Opera in the evening. While tomorrow we have been invited to brunch at the Cordonian Consulate, after which the King has a round-table discussion with the Prime Minister, and day will be closed out by a state gala."

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly. "So, the Prime Minister isn't the same as the President...?"

"The Prime Minister is the head of government, while the President is the head of state," the elder Beaumont instructs as Maxwell squishes himself into the backseat on the other side of me. "The roles are quite distinct."

"Of course they are..." I huff under my breath.

Seems like in addition to Olivia's list of influential Cordonian nobles, I will also need to memorise a textbook on European constitutional history...

Though, now I am doubly glad of the business-like, but nevertheless stylish pale pink, high-necked pencil dress that Bertrand foisted on me this morning — it definitely would not have been great to show up underdressed to such a high-level meeting!

"But we must hurry!" the elder Beaumont proclaims. "We are due at the Presidential Palace in just under an hour, and we still need to fight our way through the notoriously infernal Roman traffic!"

"Not to worry," Olivia assures us with a sly smirk from the front passenger seat. "Vito here knows all the shortcuts."

"That sounds ominous..." I mutter, reaching for the seatbelt on instinct.

"I prefer 'expeditious'," she counters, turning to Vito, who has now taken up position behind the wheel. "Andiamo."

"Certamente, Duchessa," he nods, throwing the car forward with a violent depression of the gas pedal.

The sudden acceleration yanks an inadvertent gasp from my lips as I'm thrown back in my seat... just like on that afternoon in Ramsford when Drake pulled the same stunt on the Beaumonts' driveway.

I feel my throat tighten as I glance inadvertently out the window. God, I hope he's okay...

I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably making myself anxious for no reason. Drake is an adult, perfectly capable of taking care of himself... including in close-quarters situations. He's demonstrated that to me plenty of times.

Yet, I still can't help but worry about him. Especially when he's off in a foreign country (all by himself for all I know...), having left with basically no good-bye, and with definitely no assurance of when he expects to get back.

And while I know that he is doing this for me — so we can collar Tariq and extract whatever information he has in relation to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season... and to answer for what he did to me in Applewood — the wait is killing me. I have no idea where he is, what he is doing, and whether he even has his phone turned on, given the high-stakes nature of his self-appointed task.

Which is why I have held off trying to reach out to him (...even though the baser, needier part of me is itching to do exactly that), as I don't want to be the one to interrupt a crucial moment by setting his phone off with an ill-timed call or text, especially considering the three-hour time difference...

I heave a breath.

I just have to trust him. Like he asked me to at every turn of this increasingly bumpy road that we've been travelling since I left New York. And hope that we are finally on our way out of the woods.

Exiting the boundaries of the airport, Vito navigates the Porsche onto a highway where we are able to pick up some speed. Olivia uses the opportunity to open up her phone, throwing some questions in Italian to her associate every so often as we cruise along. Bertrand is similarly occupied, while Maxwell has slipped on some Bose headphones and is bobbing away to the beat.

Which leaves me to stare somewhat aimlessly out the window, watching the scenery roll by in a bid to keep myself distracted.

But the reprieve ends up being somewhat of a welcome one. The various warehouses and road-side auto lots surrounding the airport quickly give way to a tree-lined thoroughfare, and I find myself basking in the calming effects of the greenery, not having expected to encounter such a bucolic sight on the road to a major urban centre.

Eventually, though, the vegetation gives way to the crumbling walls of some kind of expansive estate that we end up following for a good few miles until the asphalt road changes over to cobblestones and we pass in front the gates of a red-bricked stone fortress that looks like it's been plucked straight from the set of Game of Thrones.

"Wow..." I can't help but breathe as I take in the sight of the towering structure simmering under the light of the mid-morning sun.

"Le mura aureliane," advises Vito from up front, catching my awed expression through the rear-view mirror. "Costruita dall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari."

I nod distractedly, craning my neck as we turn a corner to follow the path of the ancient structure that is somehow still standing despite the clear ravages of time and weather.

Nothing lasts like this anymore...

Making another turn, we pass beneath an arched portion of the wall, and the road before us opens up into a leafy boulevard that takes us into the city proper. And from there, it's one jaw-dropping piece of architecture after another jostling for space between more modern buildings and seemingly never-ending rows of trees.

"I didn't expect Rome to be so green..." I admit to no one in particular as I eye up the unusual-looking shrubs.

"You can thank the Ancient Romans," supplies Bertrand without glancing up from his phone. "They planted the now-iconic stone pines in scores along the major roadways in part to serve as ornamentation, and in part to provide a steady supply of pine nuts, which are an essential ingredient in many dishes, including pesto and various pies and tarts."

"It certainly was worth the effort," I agree, watching the evergreens drift past on either side of us.

Though, as Bertrand predicted, the closer we get to the centre of the ancient capital, the increasingly chaotic the traffic becomes, with cars, buses and mopeds all vying for space on the roads, requiring Vito to make recourse to his own horn as well as various offensive gestures in order to narrowly avoid a slew of accidents... and I suddenly have a slightly better appreciation for why Drake drives the way he does. Because based on my experiences first in France and now in Italy, it appears that on the Mediterranean, might equals right when it comes to priority on the road, and unless you're forceful, you ain't getting nowhere.

Managing to finally extricate ourselves from the constraints of a complicated intersection, we end up on a quieter road running parallel to a long patch of bunkered-looking grass on our left.

"What's that?" I ask, tapping Vito on his shoulder.

"Il Circo Massimo," he advises.

My eyes widen. "That's the Circus Maximus?"

"Sì," he nods. "L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corse dei carri."

"Unbelievable..." I murmur, slumping back into my seat in awe.

There is nothing comparable back home — even the oldest still-extant pre-Columbian structures date to only the first millennia A.D. Whereas here we are, casually cruising past a seminal piece of history that is still embedded into the fabric of the city nearly three thousand years after its construction. And we haven't even seen the Colosseum, or the Forum yet!

Rome really is the Eternal City...

Leaving the green fields of the Circus behind us, we enter a more urban-looking environment as we start to climb a hill. The white- and sand-coloured buildings cluster closer together, and the general architecture becomes more uniformly Baroque, until we arrive in a large plaza dominated by a massive, Neo-Classical structure that towers over everything else.

"Il Vittoriano," Vito offers without prompting.

"Is that where we're having brunch with the President?" I ask, slack-mouthed as I stare up at the imposing building.

It certainly looks impressive enough to house the head of a country!

"Of course not!" admonishes Bertrand. "The Vittoriano is a symbolic collection of monuments built to commemorate the rule of King Victor Emmanuel II and the unification of Italy. The President resides at the Quirinal Palace, which is located on a wholly different Roman hill!"

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly.

"Like she is going to know the difference," scoffs Oliva from the front. "They don't even teach The Art of War in her schools... How can you expect her to know anything about Italian history?"

"Italian history is foundational history!" insists Bertrand. "The Romans were instrumental in shaping not just the course of European, but Northern African and Middle Eastern events for millennia! How can they neglect to teach American children about this?"

"Because the focus is on US history," I tell them wearily as Vito navigates us to the other side of the square.

"Surely that is an afternoon's worth of lessons at most?" the elder Beaumont queries sceptically. "Your country was only founded in the conventional sense of the word in the mid-1600s..."

"Most Americans haven't been to Europe," I remind him, watching the rows of buildings flick past on either side of us as we begin the ascent up another hill. "They don't necessarily have a basis of comparison."

"Sounds like your curriculum is somewhat lacking in scope, then..." he surmises with pursed lips.

"Yeah, well..." I retort dryly, "I don't write the textbooks. Though, speaking of education, is there any chance for some sightseeing? It would be a shame to spend two days here and not actually see anything..."

"While I wholeheartedly approve of the sentiment," Bertrand replies, "I am afraid that you will have to make do with the cultural experiences offered by the various host venues on the official itinerary. Which — I admit — are no Pantheon, or Sistine Chapel, but are impressive and important cultural artefacts, nevertheless. The Quirinal Palace, for instance, so named for the Quirinal Hill on which it sits, is actually the sixth largest palace in the world and has served as the primary residence of such notable figures as—"

I let out a low exhale as Bertrand launches into a full-blown historical recital. And while the details are definitely interesting, I didn't come all this way to listen to a one-man rendition of a Roman guidebook.

Which makes me all the more determined to find some kind of opportunity to slip away from the official tour — even if it's just for an hour to toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain — so that I can experience something of the magic that this breathtaking city has to offer.

When, I have no idea, given the busyness of our schedule, but I managed to orchestrate an escape plan to see the capital back in Cordonia, so I'm confident I'll be able to pull something similar... albeit without Drake's help this time. But despite the set-backs, I'm not about to miss out on this kind of once-in-a-lifetime experience...

With my intention firmly set, the car rounds an uphill corner, and we are suddenly on the edge of yet another expansive plaza secured by a rim of strategically placed concrete planters and a pair of police cars.

Vito pulls to a stop and slides the window down to exchange a few quick words with the officer who has come to greet us.

"Passports," instructs Olivia, reaching into her purse.

Opening up the white, Medusa emblazoned Versace clutch sitting on my lap — which I am sure cost more than what I would've ever made in a month working as a waitress back home, but which Bertrand had insisted on as a 'necessary' Italian-themed accessory — I pull out my shiny, new Cordonian passport and pass it to the front.

Maxwell and Bertrand do the same, and there is a couple of minutes of tense silence while the stern-looking officer inspects each document to verify our identities, while another policeman does a circuit 'round the car with a convex safety mirror.

Finally, the policeman hands the passports back with a curt nod, and waves us through.

"Were they not expecting us?" I query as I slot my credentials away again.

"They were," Olivia advises. "But we are arriving separately from the royal delegation, so the State Police are obligated to run a security check."

"Why?"

The Duchess of Lythikos scoffs back at me. "To ensure that we are not terrorists trying to kill the President with a car bomb... Or did that part go over your head?"

"No..." I hit back sarcastically. "I meant why are we arriving separately?"

She looks back at me with an arched brow. "Would you have preferred to deal with the press?"

"I... No," I admit.

She turns back to the front with a smirk. "Didn't think so."

Vito pulls the car to a stop in front of a small courtyard decked out with a red carpet and intertwined streamers made out in the colours of Cordonia's and Italy's flags. Allard and Schweitzer — who had been travelling in the car behind us — appear to open the doors for us.

Bertrand scoots out of the backseat first, before turning back to offer me his hand.

"Thanks," I say with a sincere smile, grasping his fingers to help pull myself up.

"Always my pleasure," he replies with a genuine smile.

Smoothing my skirt, I gaze up at the somewhat understated-looking entranceway, suddenly nervous about the prospect of acting as a newly-minted ambassador of Cordonia. I mean... three months ago, I was bussing tables at a dive bar for less than minimum wage, and now here I am, decked out in clothes that cost more than the rent I was paying for a fifth-storey walk-up, about to have an official meeting with a foreign country's head of state.

To say that I feel like a fraud is a massive understatement.

"What are you waiting for?" asks Olivia, breezing past me with all the confidence of a woman who's done this a hundred times before... probably because she has. "For the grass to grow?"

"I—"

"I heard the President loves chocolate bomboloni," offers Maxwell enthusiastically, linking his arm through mine to tug me down the length of the red carpet.

"What's...that?" I ask, forcing myself to swallow down the sudden dryness in my throat.

Maxwell's face collapses into an aghast look of shock. "Only the best pastry-based dessert! Second only to cronuts, of course!"

"That's definitely a high bar to hit," I admit.

"Think mini doughnuts with gooey chocolate filling, dusted with powdered sugar," he explains. "They literally melt in your mouth!"

"Except we are not here to indulge infantile cravings for sugary treats," reprimands Bertrand as we pass through the arched doorway. "We are here to partake in important discussions relating to matters of state, and t—"

"Pfft," scoffs Olivia. "Speak for yourself, Beaumont. These meetings are dull as shite. I'm here for the sweets."

I can't help but snort at the unexpected riposte... as well as the resultant sight of Bertrand's jaw hitting the parquet flooring. And I unexpectedly find myself feeling better about the whole experience. Because despite whatever nerves I may be feeling, the fact that Olivia and the Beaumonts are with me means that I am not alone in this.

Passing into the coolness of the building, we are greeted by a middle-aged woman who proceeds to lead us through a veritable rabbit warren of ante-rooms and corridors before we finally arrive in an expansive room dominated by a pair of jaw-dropping crystal chandeliers suspended from a vaulted, hand-painted ceiling.

"La Salle Bronzino," informs our guide, indicating that we should step through.

"Wow..." I breathe, trying to take in the opulence with as much composure as I can.

A slew of camera shutters click to life upon our arrival.

Jerking my gaze down from the delicate, celestial fresco above me, I spot the handful of photographers aiming their lenses at me.

I stifle a groan as I plaster a demure smile onto my face. "I thought you said there wouldn't be any reporters."

"This is an official state visit," Bertrand hisses out of the corner of his mouth. "Of course, there will be reporters!

"Just not as many as there would have been outside earlier," Olivia assures me.

My shoulders slump in acquiescence. "Take the wins you can get, I guess..."

"Ah, you made it!" exclaims Christian, striding up to us with a jovial grin. "Traffic wasn't too terrible, I hope?"

"Nothing Vito couldn't handle," Olivia assures him, dipping into a chaste curtesy as the photographers snap eagerly away.

Christian turns to me with a good-natured chuckle. "And Lady Harper... First impressions haven't put you off, have they?"

"No," I assure him, bobbing down politely as well, knowing that everyone in the room now has their eyes on us. "The exact opposite, actually."

"Excellent," he beams, holding my gaze for a second longer than he did with Olivia. "I have to admit that I have a bit of a soft spot for Rome, myself."

"It really is a—"

"Darling," interjects Madeleine with a steely smile, appearing at her fiancé's shoulder. "You really should focus your attentions on the President. He has been gracious enough to open up his home for us, after all..."

Christian's nostrils flare with the briefest flash of irritation as he pulls back slightly. "Quite. Let us go make the necessary introductions."

Madeleine bristles. "That is not what I—"

Deftly ignoring her, Christian extends his arm decisively towards an elderly man wearing a sombre suit and gold-rimmed glasses. "Shall we?"

"I guess so?" I concede, already feeling myself being steered past the silently fuming countess.

"Now remember," Bertrand mutters next to me as Christian leads us down the length of the room. "In the context of a formal conversation, it is always lei — never tu — when addressing your counterpart, so for the love of all that is holy, please do not—"

"Singor Presidente," proclaims Christian as he pulls to a stop. "Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione."

The President raises his head dutifully. "Certamente."

"Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell."

The Beaumonts bow their heads dutifully.

"Beaumont..." the President frowns. "Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso?"

"Sì," Bertrand confirms. "Egli è nostro padre."

The President is nodding in recollection. "Sì... sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui."

"Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte," Bertrand acknowledges.

"E questa è Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos, un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys."

Olivia holds out her hand. "E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente."

The President drops a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. "Il piacere è tutto mio."

"E finalmente," concludes Christian, "questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria."

The President's brows arc inquisitively. "Singorina Harper... You are... American? No?"

"Sì," I affirm as I offer my hand out. "Ma ho praticato mio Italiano..."

The President's mouth cracks into a genuine smile. "And you are doing very well, Singorina! Tell me, have you visited la città eterna before?"

"No, this is my first time," I admit, also switching to English, now that the formalities are over and done with. "But even the ride from the airport was utterly magical! It's like stepping into history!"

"Sì," the President affirms with a grin. "Us Romans are unspeakably lucky to be able to call such a beautiful city our home. It is a place of many treasures."

"What is your favourite part of the city?" I ask.

The President blinks in surprise at the unexpected intimacy of the request. "That is a difficult question... But if I am forced to choose... it would have to be this little forno next to la Fontana di Trevi which makes a very unique — and very delicious — pistachio croissant. It is not for every person, but if you have a spirit of adventure, then I suggest you try it."

"Thank you," I say with a sincere smile, filing the suggestion away. "I definitely will!"

"I cannot say that I have had the pleasure of sampling this treat, either," Christian admits, with a knowing glance down at me. "But Lady Harper has excellent taste in pastries — she was actually kind enough to introduce us to an American delicacy called a cronut. It was a big hit all around."

"A cronut?" queries the President. "I cannot say I am familiar..."

"Don't worry," Maxwell assures him with a conspiratorial grin. "We'll bring you one. If you'll trade us some bomboloni in exchange?"

Bertrand's already sunburnt face reddens further. "Maxwell! You cannot entreat the President t—"

"You like bomboloni, also?" interjects the President with keen interest.

"Of course!" Maxwell affirms enthusiastically. "Anyone who doesn't like them clearly has something wrong with them!"

"Sounds like you have excellent taste in pastries as well, Signore Maxwell!" chuckles the President.

The conversation continues to revolve around our shared food interests for a few more minutes, until an aide clears his throat from behind the President.

"Accettare le mie scuse," he apologises. "But I am being advised that it is time for the photographs and the speeches."

"Of course," nods Christian graciously, indicating that the President should lead the way to the front of the room where a small podium has been set up.

As the two men peel away from the group, I cast my eyes 'round the space and spot Hana standing by one of the large windows. Giving her a wave, I use the brief break in the proceedings to make my way over to her.

"So, what's the view like from this side of the room?" I ask by way of greeting.

"Quieter than your side," she admits wryly. "You certainly seemed to be having an engaging conversation with the President!"

"We discovered a shared love for sugary treats," I admit. "You should've joined us — you could've bragged about that baking championship that you won."

"It's alright," she demurs with a blush. "It's actually been nice to take a moment to step away from the crowd."

"Oh?" I ask, laying a concerned hand on her arm. "Is something wrong?"

She heaves a breath, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she says, "I have been fending off suitors."

My brow shoots skywards. "How many proposals have you had?"

"Since I arrived...? Probably twelve..."

My eyes bulge. "Twelve! That's like two a day!"

"Yes," she concedes with a weary exhale. "Lady Madeleine has been extremely gracious in personally introducing me to numerous eligible bachelors—"

"—but none of them are Maxwell," I surmise.

Her eyes flick up to mine before dropping back down sorrowfully. "No. But for the sake of my parents, I must entertain every available option in an honest manner."

"That definitely sounds exhausting..." I concede. "But hopefully now that we're out of the country, you can catch a bit of a break."

"I am not so sure..." she admits. "I have been advised that a number of well-connected Italians will be in attendance at the opera tonight..."

"Pfft...!" I scoff. "Just take the night off... Pretend to be sick... Run off with Maxwell to get some gelato... Actually enjoy being in Italy!"

Hana blushes. "I—"

The chime of a bell rings out across the room, interrupting our conversation.

Looking up, I see that all heads have turned dutifully towards the twin forms standing on the dais as they prepare to address the congregation.

"Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori," greets the President, "È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazione reale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. È passato troppo tempo da—"

As the speech winds on, I find myself tuning out, given that I am only able to understand every third or fourth word. But, not wanting to come across as rude by continuing my catch-up with Hana, I instead try to occupy myself by examining the two large tapestries suspended on the walls.

A round of applause draws me out of my reverie, and I join in on auto-pilot as the President hands off to Christian. Several more minutes of lilting Italian fills the room, during which time I move my attentions to the Roman-looking busts, wondering which emperors they depict.

Finally, the speeches come to a close, and I heave a sigh of relief.

"Did you understand any of that?" I ask Hana as the President presents Christian with some kind of medal, and the two men pose for photos.

"Of course," she nods. "My parents—"

"—have been giving you Italian lessons since before you could talk?" I finish dryly.

Hana's cheeks dimple. "Not quite that young, but yes. I am what they consider 'proficient'."

"Meaning, you speak it better than I speak English," I joke.

She snorts in response. "I wouldn't say that..."

"But it's true," I say with a smirk, happy to see that Hana's time back at court has not completely crushed her sense of humour.

"Ah, I've missed talking to you, Harper," she says with genuine feeling. "The last few days have felt so busy that I feel like we haven't spoken in months!"

"Yeah, tell me about it..." I agree with a huff. "In the space of a week, I've become a Cordonian citizen, been granted a duchy, gone from number five to number one on Madeleine's shit list, and—"

Hana's eyes widen. "It's not that bad, surely...!"

"It's probably worse," I admit. "And being on the front page of the Cordonian Sun — again — is probably not helping matters either..."

"Yes, I saw that article..." she commiserates with feeling. "I'm sorry that the press are treating you in that manner again."

"Hey, it's not your fault," I assure her. "But the press aren't all bad — I managed to convince Ana de Luca to help us track down the photographer who took those pictures of me and Tariq, and she actually came through yesterday."

"That's great!" she enthuses. "I have to admit that I have not had much success on my side... Madeleine does not permit her ladies-in-waiting to handle any of her private correspondence, including her mobile phones and laptop. And she has only talked to us about the upcoming events on the tour..."

"Well, it was a bit of a long-shot, anyway," I concede with a shrug. "But who knows? We might get—"

"Pardon," interrupts Kiara with a pointed cough. "But the Queen requests your presence."

I roll my eyes with a scoff. "She's not married to Christian yet..."

"But she will be soon," she reminds me pointedly. "So, it is actuellement in your interest to remain on her good side, given that you are now a duchess."

I feel the corner of my mouth scrunch into a mou of dissent, but I force myself not to pick apart the many things that are wrong with her statement. "Fine. Where is Her Majesty?"

"Bidding adieu to the President," she advises. "She has asked that in the meantime I gather the ladies who are to accompany her to the wedding boutique."

"Does she really need an entourage to go shopping?" I ask as we start making our way back to the double doors at the far end of the room.

"It is tradition for the suitors who were not picked at the end of the social season to assist the queen-to-be in the preparations for the wedding, including selecting her bridal gown and trousseau."

"Wonder how many times that's gone wrong before..." I mutter under my breath.

"It is a ritual de beaucoup d'importance," Kiara insists seriously. "The former suitors — and their families — demonstrate their public support for the union via the personal assistance they provide the bride and groom in the lead-up to the big day, as well as in the act of taking on key roles during the ceremony itself."

"Let me guess..." I grumble. "We're all going to be maids of honour, too..."

"In Cordonia, the correct term is 'witness'," she corrects. "They are the ones chosen by the couple to countersign the marriage certificate. Mais oui — it is likely that one or two of us will be called upon in such a manner."

"Great..." I sigh, arriving at the entranceway where Penelope and Olivia are already waiting. "All the things we get to look forward to..."

"Oh, Lady Harper!" squeals Penelope in excitement. "I love your dress! How do you always manage to find such super chic pieces?"

"Uhh..." I say, genuinely taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Bertrand picked this, actually..."

Olivia snorts derisively. "You mean Lord Tweedle-Dee? Please... That man has worse fashion sense than Jared Leto."

"Actually, he—"

"If you lot are quite finished with your asinine chit-chit," snaps Madeline as she strides imperiously past us, "you can pick up your feet. We are already running late for my appointment... Which took months to schedule, so don't you dare make me miss it!"

I meet Hana's gaze with a fish-eyed look. "Ever heard the term 'bridezilla' before?"

"No," she admits with a frown. "But it sounds scary..."

"Oh, trust me!" I assure her as we bring up the rear. "It is! Especially since it sounds like Madeleine is planning to take the concept to a whole 'nother level..."

The story continues in Chapter 19: Field Day

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

At the airport: Andiamo - Let's go

Certamente, Duchessa - Certainly, Duchess

En route Lemura aureliane. Costruitadall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari. - The Aurelian Wall. It was constructed by the Emperor Aurelian to defend Rome against barbarians.

Il Circo Massimo - The Circus Maximus

Sì. L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corsedei carri. - Yes. The ancient Roman stadium constructed for chariot racing.

Il Vittoriano - This is a colloquial nickname for the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II

At the Presidential Palace Singor Presidente. Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione. - Mr President. Allow me to introduce some additional members of our delegation.

Certamente - Certainly

Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell. - This is Lord Bertrand Beaumont, Duke of Ramsford, and his brother, Maxwell.

Beaumont... Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso? - Beaumont... You know, that sounds familiar. Are you related to Lord Bartholemy, by chance?

Sì. Egli è nostro padre. - Yes. He is our father.

Sì...sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui. - Yes... Yes... He accompanied the former king on many occasions. You look a lot like him.

Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte. - Yes, there is a notable family resemblance.

E questaè Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos,un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys. - And this is Lady Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, a dear friend of mine, and loyal supporter of the Rys family.

E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente. - My sincere pleasure, Mr President.

Il piacere è tutto mio. - The pleasure is all mine.

E finalmente, questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria. - And finally, this is Lady Harper, the new Duchess of Valtoria.

Sì. Ma hopraticato mio Italiano.* - Yes. But I am practising my Italian. *Italian speakers will note that there is a grammatical mistake here (the correct phrasing is 'Ho praticato il mio italiano'). However, the mistake is deliberate because Harper learnt Italian literally an hour ago, so she's not going to be perfect at it!

La città eterna - the Eternal City (nickname for Rome)

Accettare le mie scuse - [Please] Accept my apologies.

Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori. È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazionereale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. Èpassato troppo tempo da— Your Royal Highness, fellow delegates, ladies and gentlemen. It is my honour to host the royal delegation of Cordonia, our neighbour and ally for many centuries. It has been far too long since—

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[all-for-geek]

The Cal Who Kinda Like Musicals - Chapter 1: The Greatest Stories Ever Told...

Chapter 2

Fandom: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals/Starkid/Hatchetfield

Summary: Cal Brady had moved to Hatchetfield not that long ago. They seemed to be doing well all things consider. Managed to find a steady job, made some friends. These were going nice. They should've known it wouldn't last. Granted, they didn't think it would take the form of musical zombies.

Word Count: 2,119

On the northwestern tip of Michigan, there is an island called Hatchetfield. It’s a rather big island, although you wouldn’t guess that if you stepped onto its shores and walked around. It’s one of those towns where everyone seems to know everyone. Where most families can trace their roots to the same plot of land for generations. It’s not often that newcomers go to the island, and many don’t stay for long. The island doesn’t take kindly to strangers.

On this island is a company called CCRP: a tech conglomerate that bought out the old gazette building about a decade ago. No one’s sure how the deal came about or who did it, but it brought steady jobs to the island and decent healthcare, so they didn’t care. There were more important things to worry about in Hatchetfield. The building was split into two sections: the labs where much of the tech was developed, and the administrative side who ran all the mundane day-to-days of office life. This is where our story begins.

Three employees sat at their desks. One, Charlotte, was filing various paperwork between outgoing phone calls. Another, Paul, was busy typing up some report that his boss asked for a week ago. The other one, Bill…well saying that he was working might have been a stretch. Half of his screen was filled with the numbers and calculations he was supposed to be running, but the other half was where his full attention was. Perhaps, that’s why when he looked down at the printer sitting next to him, there was nothing to find.

“Hey, Paul,” Bill called out, “I think I might have sent something to your printer.”

“Uh…,” Paul looked down. Sure enough, there were papers in the tray that certainly weren’t Paul’s. “Yep. Here.”

“Thanks,” Bill replied with a smile.

“I thought Cal fixed the printer problem?”

“I did.” A young individual, no older than 19, with blue hair stormed over as they heard their name, leaning on top of Paul’s computer. “But Davidson still won’t let me do the overhaul that the system needs. As long as the lazyass keeps dragging his feet, it’s gonna keep happening.”

Cal was one of the rare transplants to Hatchetfield. Having only graduated last spring, they had packed up and somehow gotten a job as CCRP’s head of IT department. Granted, they were the only member of the IT department, but the title still came with a fancy security badge.

“That’s not very polite, Cal,” Bill chided, “I’m sure Mr. Davidson has a lot on his plate.”

“Well, maybe he’d have less on it if he let me actually fix the fucking system. It’s not gonna last on duct tape and a prayer forever.”

“Who taught you to use such vulgar language?”

“From my proud Irish bloodline. If you think I’m bad, you’d faint if you had a conversation with my gran” Cal gave him a cocky grin.

“I swear, you spend too much time around Ted. He’s not a good influence on you.”

Cal rolled their eyes. Their snarky remark was cut off by Paul standing up and clapping his hands. “Well, I’m off to Beanie’s. Want anything Cal?”

“Not from there, no,” Cal chuckled. They walk away as Bill and Paul start talking about whatever show was at the Starlight. Cal spotted Charlotte sitting at her desk, clearly shaken about something. More importantly, they spotted the flask she was holding in her trembling hands.

“Hey Char,” Cal called as they walked over, “You doing alright?”

“Hm?” Charlotte’s gaze slowly pans over to Cal. It took her a moment to register that the teen was there. “Oh…yes. Everything is fine, Cal. Everything is just fine.”

Cal nodded slowly, assuming that Charlotte had been on the phone with her douchebag husband again. They weren’t touching that with a 10-foot pole, instead gesturing to the flask. “Mind if I have a drink?”

“Sure…” Charlotte hands the flask in Cal’s general direction. Right as they were about to grab it, someone yanked it out of Charlotte’s hand and downed whatever was left.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard, Ted,” Charlotte whines.

“You know it,” Ted smirks at Charlotte, giving her a wink before giving Cal a pointed look. “Don’t worry, I can make it up to you.”

Cal gagged, walking away before they had to hear anything more.

Later in the day, Cal spins around in an office chair, waiting for requests to come in. This is what most of their days looked like. Sitting around waiting for computers and servers to break, fixing them for a few minutes, and then going back to sitting and waiting. It’s no wonder that they ended back up where they always end up when they get bored: Ted’s office.

“Yo,” they greet, casually walking inside.

Ted quickly closes the tab that he had opened. “Cal, how many times do I have to tell you to fucking knock?”

“The same amount of times I’ve told you that looking at that shit on a work computer is a bad idea.”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you want, nerd?”

“I’m bored,” they announce, plopping down in the spare chair.

“So? Go bother Bill or something.” Ted waves them off, focusing back on his computer.

“Ugh. If I wanted to hear someone nag their kid and talk shit about their ex, I would just call my mom.”

“Well Paul, then. Or Charlotte. Buzz off. I’m busy.”

“I’m sure. With all that important ‘work’ you do in here.”

“If Davidson’s not gonna give me anything to do, who am I to stop him?”

“Lazyass.”

“Ouch, such an insult,” he deadpans, placing his hand on his chest in mock offense.

“I mean, I could be actually mean if you wanted.”

“Kid, you can’t say anything I haven’t heard before.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“It wasn’t. No. Stop that.”

Cal answers with a shit-eating grin. “Nah, annoying you is one of the best parts of my day. Ain’t planning on stopping.”

“You could consider being nice and polite and respecting your elders.” He responds jokingly through gritted teeth.

“You could consider not being a horny bastard. Don’t think I didn’t notice that move on Charlotte.”

“Right. And remind me, why were you over by Charlotte in the first place?” Ted gives them a knowing look. Was he deflecting? A little, sure, but they needed to talk about it either way.

Cal rolls their eyes. “It was one drink. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I’ve told you to stay away from that shit.”

“I’ve got my shit handled,” Cal responds defensively. 

“Sure.”

They roll their eyes again. “Whatever.”

“You’re too young to be getting messed up in that shit, Cal. You still got time to break out of it.”

“Fine, Dad.”

Ted can’t help but chuckle. Before he can respond, Cal gets a notification on their work phone. 

“Ew. Work. Later.” Cal stands up, giving him a two-fingered salute on their way out the door.

Ted returns it. “Yeah. Later, ya little shit.”

Once Cal finishes fixing the server (for the third fucking time this week), it’s finally time to clock out. They pack up their work bag, slinging over their shoulder as they head for the door. They wave goodbye to Melissa on the way out.

“Have a safe night, Cal!” she calls out.

“Will do, Mel!” they shout back as they walk out the door.

Ted stands at his car, fiddling with his keys. Technically speaking, he wasn’t off for another couple hours, but it wasn’t like he ever did work anyway. No one would notice that he was gone. Even fewer would notice that this happened to be around the time that Charlotte got off.

“Need a ride?” Ted asked on instinct. He silently cursed himself. He had other places he wanted to be tonight.

“Nah, I’m meeting Pete over at Beanies.”

Ted gives them a knowing smirk. “Ooooooooh. Pete, huh?”

Cal’s cheeks flush red. “Shut up, asshole.” 

Ted rolls his eyes. “Never. Enjoy your date, nerd.”

“It’s not a date!”

“Just keep telling yourself that.”

Cal walks away, flipping Ted off with their back turned. They don’t see Ted doing the same, his signature assholish grin smeared across his face.

Cal found Pete where he always was if he wasn’t at the library: Beanies Coffee. The coffee was shit and the prices were shittier, but it made the customers feel better than going to a corporate chain like the Starbucks down the street.

The boy stood outside the cafe in his signature suspenders and bowtie, grumbling with his coffee in hand. When he saw Cal waving as they approached, his whole face shifted into a bright smile, waving back.

“Hey!” Cal said as they approached.

“Hey,” Pete echoed with a sigh. They two started walking in the general direction of Cal’s apartment.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, the baristas there always take their sweet ass time.”

“I will never understand why you go there.”

“They have good hot chocolate!”

“Riiiiiiiiiight. The only other person who goes there as religiously as you do is Paul, and at least he has the excuse of having a crush on one of the workers.”

“I definitely don’t have a crush on one of the workers.” The words were true, but they came out a little too rushed and made his face a little too red to be believable.

Cal eyes him teasingly even as something tugs down on them. “Sure.”

“I don’t!”

“So you just wait too damn long after paying too much for the chocolate you need for your blood sugar for fun? Give me a break man.”

“I’ve been going to Beanies ever since Ted let me walk around town on my own. It’s a staple of Hatchetfield culture and life.”

“You’re such a nerd.” Cal chuckles, only affection in their voice.

“Well, so are you,” Pete responds teasingly, nudging them.

“Touche.”

The two walk in comfortable silence around town. Their hands dangle dangerously close to each other’s. They take turns looking down at them, each wondering if they would dare take that risk.

“Uh, you doing anything tonight?” Cal asked, shoving their hands into their pockets.

“Yeah, Ted gave me his season tickets for the Starlight tonight. He’s not exactly the biggest fan of Mamma Mia I guess. Ruth and I are gonna go see it.”

“You’re willingly subjecting yourself to Mamma Mia?” Cal practically spats out the name. 

Pete shrugs. “Ruth likes it. And who knows, it might be fun.”

They roll their eyes jokingly. “If you make it out of that show, you deserve an award.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“I don’t know. Free hot chocolate for life or something.”

“Well shit, if I had known that it would be that easy…”

“I think you are underestimating the kind of snooze fest you’re getting into.”

“I think you’re being a little too harsh.”

“It’s a shit show!”

“That’s your opinion.”

“It’s the correct one.”

Pete chuckled. Up ahead, at the edge of the road was an old brick and mortar apartment complex. It was functional, but not much else outside of that. The edges of the Witchwood just on the other side of it were shrouded in shadow as the sun began to set. The two stopped at the doorway to say their goodbyes.

“We still on for stargazing this weekend?” Pete asked, taking the last sip of his hot chocolate.

“Hell yeah, dude. I can’t wait.”

“Cool.” He threw his Beanies cup into the nearby trash can. Cal allowed a soft smile to appear while his back was turned. “I’ll see you then, then.”

“See ya.” The two fistbumped as Cal headed up the stairs, and Pete left for the show of his life.

Cal opened the door to their cramped apartment, laying their work bag on the couch. They quickly changed out of their fucking work clothes before eyeing the drumset in the corner of the bedroom.

…Nah. As fun as it would be, the neighbors were probably home by now. They didn’t need another noise complaint. They settled for the next best thing: throwing themself on the couch and booting up Trombone Champ.

They played well into the night. Far later than they should have been considering they had to go to work the next day, but they just shrugged off the tiredness. They weren’t going to be sleeping anyway. Might as well do something fun.

It’s probably for the best that they weren’t in their room anyway. If they had been, they might have looked out their window facing the Witchwood and noticed a blue streak hurdling dangerously close to the ground. Best to give them one last night of normalcy.

[risu5waffles]

CW: self-harm, injury (post stitches photo, no gore)

So, we talked a bit on stream last night, and i don't know how much sense anything made beyond the concrete details. It's hard to put into words really, where my head is. Even when things are happening, like, i know they're real, and the result of decisions i am making, have made, but they don't feel really real? i've thought a lot and a long time about cutting myself, and i never really thought it was a particularly good idea. i didn't see it in any way constructive or helpful. i wasn't even really sure it was filling a bad need. And yet, i'd find myself, now and then, digging in wiv a box cutter, like, "ope, i guess this is what we're doing now, then." And even then, even now, my brainmeats are like, "what's this chickenshit now? How come you can't even lean into this ? We've known gals what look like they've been rolling round in bobwire." It's true. i've known more than a few gals who've gone and really fucked themselves up, and thinking of them, and looking at my arms, and even now i think to myself, "oh, we could go way harder than this."

So, yesterday i did. Not that that was the intent. To the extent there was an intent. i'd been putting it off wiv tasks since the night before, 'cause that works sometimes. "Can't do this now, we've got laundry to do, don't want blood on clean clothes. Well, now we're home, but how about a run of Isaac first. Oh, well, now we're too tired to get up to dickens. Oh, it's morning, but let's record a few archive episodes first. Well, those'll have to get edited now." Sometimes it's just loading one more thing and one more thing, keeping yourself busy long enough that the feeling passes. And usually you're lucky. And then sometimes there's a gap.

i didn't even really feel it. That's bothered me in a lot of different ways since this started. Like, it ought to hurt. That i've so divorced myself from myself it didn't feel much worse than a scratch. i knew i'd really fucked up this time when the wound spread open and i could see i'd cut down into the fat. It bled surprisingly little. And even then looking at it, and knowing this was a really bad scene, there was a part of me that was like, "this ? This ain't nothing. run it under a tap a bit, slap on a bandage, and get on wiv your day." Even now i half-think that, even though i know it's pure-d bullshite. Was worrying about infection that got me to go the ER. It'd be one thing to hurt myself and wind up wiv an ugly scar. It'd be quite another to get sepsis and die. i'm not well, but i'm not suicidal. Well, not actively suicidal. i've been thinking of suicide on the daily since i was a kid. But i still don't particularly want to die? It's a hard distinction to explain, and generally i just don't try to, and live wiv the results.

(i have some other, worse pictures, so i have something to throw at the brainmeats and say "yes, actually, this was bad." those pictures will not be shared. ever)

Can we talk for a moment about affordable healthcare? Now it's pure bullshite they tagged me an extra 7700yen for not having a referral (to the ER?! Like, what?!), but that means the cleaning and six stitches i got ran me 2000yen. The looking at i had this morning (they wanted to be sure my arm wasn't going to fall off. Spoilers: it is not going to fall off)? 220yen. i don't even want to think what that would've cost in the US. Would probably have to cut my arm off to pay for it. Now, i'm of the mind healthcare shouldn't cost anything at all, and the Japanese system is far from perfect, but... like... i was able to afford it.

The last time i did this, which did not require stitches, couple of weeks back? It was in one of those gaps where i couldn't do anything but wait for the episode i was working on to render, so i could start up the next. So, i look up from it, from my arm, looking for something to clean away the blood and see how bad it was this time, and there's the episode bumper up on the telly. "For fierce trans joy" all in big letters. And i felt such a sense of shame. Just deep, weary shame, like i was caught in a betrayal of community. A betrayal of concept. "Is this, am i, what 'fierce trans joy' looks like?" i felt such disgust and self-loathing. And still it did not stop yesterday from happening.

So where am i? Where are we? i have responsibilities to my community, if to nothing and no one else. i do take what i do, as little as it may be, seriously. That's why i decided to talk about it last night, and why i'm setting things down here, now. i'd rather have folx know, and be able to decide how or if they want to be wiv me, than not know and be hurt and surprised later? If i can't do right by the people who've done right by me, what kind of shitheel am i?

i'd like to say yesterday (or worse) won't happen again, but i didn't think yesterday was going to happen until it was happening. i can say, at this exact moment, i don't want to cut myself, but i'm not entirely sure that's a meaningful statement? All things considered? i'm trying to set up a trip to see my folx this summer that is really also a trip to see if i can finagle my way onto HRT somehow. i don't think progressing wiv the meatside of my transition is going to magically cure how deeply fucked my processing has gotten, but i know the past four years (four years already? Fuck me sideways) not making any real progress at all has not helped in the slightest. Figuring my shite out on the eve of a global pandemic was, as the kids say, a spot of poor timing. Besides, to the little extent i actually feel want, i want this. That has meaning all on its own.

So, yeah. That's the that. Things internally suck. i had a pretty bad scare. My brainmeats are still trying to downplay everything. But, like, i don't want to die. And today was a nice day. i put on my best dress, and went out to Kichijoji, and bought some stickers. i'm making curry, because even if i don't ever feel particularly hungry, i know i have to eat, and my curry is pretty good. Tomorrow's another day off (was s'pposed to work today, but, like, hospital), and hopefully it'll be nice, and i'll get a few things done and go down to Harajuku and look at all the pretty clothes that not even cis girls fit in (seriously, the first time i went, i thought the shops were stocking for actual children).

Love all y'all. You take care now, stay safe, and have a wonderful day.

(i didn't bring the parking sign, it just hasn't been in any pictures recently)

(old hands, can you pick out the new stickers? if you can tell me, you get a cookie. also my undying love. but you'd have gotten that anyway)

[mischiefmanifold]

Is there danger in getting diagnosed with a PD? like should I try for diagnosis or could that potentially harm me (lives in the US). How do u even go about diagnosis/hint towards having certain pds? there are three I know I have but idk how to talk about them without coming off as self dxing or the therapist misunderstanding ?

hello anon!!

despite the hellscape that is the united states healthcare system right now, you cannot be discriminated against for having a personality disorder. a diagnosis is very helpful for treatment purposes and access to less common treatments that require a diagnosis. it can also be helpful for accommodations (yes, you can get accommodations for PDs) and qualifying for disability if needed.

as for bringing up PDs to a professional, I always encourage lying. you can say that a loved one suggested you see a doctor about specific PD symptoms they've noticed, or you have been tracking your symptoms for a long time and they line up with (x disorder). I'm guessing that a mental health professional would be more likely to vibe with the first one (because some professionals have fucking savior complexes and feel the need to help those around the mentally ill person rather than the mentally ill person themself).

my personal experience is with DID instead of PDs. I never brought up the possibility of having NPD and ASPD as a minor because I was in denial and because of the horrific stigma around these two disorders. however, when I brought up DID to the first therapist I essentially asked him, "with what you know about me and taking my trauma and past into account, do you think I could have DID?" he said yes it's very possible, and that started my journey with my system.

I hope this helps :)

[acertainmoshke]

Hello, your w.i.p.s all sound interesting! Hope you don't mind questions! I love worldbuilding and To Die Among the Stars has really caught my attention. It sounds like a sci fi/found family type of story. Do you know why the first FTL test was a disaster? I'm hoping they tested it remotely/without humans before testing it with humans. Judging by your use of “mental wellness centers” I'm guessing this isn't a particularly nice future for some people. So probably not. Was the new crew briefed on why the first one failed, to try and avoid the same mistakes? Have they tested FTL on sentient androids yet or are they like Data from Star Trek, rare and highly experimental? Why did they choose to combine cat and human DNA to get Peppermint? (Not judging, I'd love to read something with a catgirl in space!) Have they tried merging other species with humans before? Oh noo, have they tried bringing back dinosaurs and mammoths? XD Has Space Jurassic Park happened? Sorry for all of the questions, your story blurb there just really intrigued me! I couldn't help myself.

Please please please don’t be sorry!! I love questions and talking about worldbuilding. So, in order:

1. The first test was a decade before the story and it was a huge disaster in the news because it was manned. It wasn’t technically the first test, though. They knew the technology worked and had run small scale tests around the solar system in tiny unmanned crafts. However, putting it together into a system that would work long-distance was too expensive at the time to plan for very many tests. They tested each part but not everything working together. Several trained astronauts and scientists were killed. It has been a while, so things are less expensive now and have been improved. However, this one is manned so they have the data on how people physically and psychologically react to FTL. I don’t want to be too spoilery but…it’s still not perfect.

2. The new crew did have a few weeks of training, much of it on the reports they’re expected to prepare, but also some cursory knowledge of ship upkeep and planetary life should they get that far—for liability reasons, mostly.

3. Both Void and Peppermint are dubiously legal experiments. Void is arguably the first provably sentient android and was kept quiet because they were unable to repeat their success. Also, important to note, unlike Data it doesn’t look human at all. It was like the 30th test and they were running short on funds, so it’s housed in a clunky metal body and honestly is a bit goofy looking.

4. Peppermint is…ok, meta explanation is I wanted an excuse to have a catgirl in space. But this type of genetic experimentation is banned because of eugenics (cruel, futuristic society still has some standards). So January, the scientist who designed both of them, had to keep them quiet too. Nominally, the point was to create a human enhanced with animal abilities, and they tried a bunch of different types. Peppermint was the only one to survive past infancy, and while they are basically a person with cat traits, there are downsides that make it currently unmarketable, either for military or private sector uses. January doesn’t care, she is kind of a mad scientist who does things to see if she can. Technically Void and Peppermint belong to her, so she brought them along to space. They’re the only ones who didn’t actually volunteer.

5. Ok space Jurassic Park has definitely happened NOW. I honestly didn’t consider a lot of the worldbuilding for this story outside of technology and living conditions (I did the least planning for it yet somehow I’m a third of the way through and have barely started the others). But yes this is a world where the justice system is like now but worse, same with healthcare and other factors of life for regular people. But if billionaires in real life can fund random space travel, rich people in my story have definitely funded extinct genetic experiments (which are legal because they aren’t on people). There have definitely been incidents, both with exotic extinct pets and with extinction zoo experiences, but on a less centralized scale than in Jurassic Park.

Thank you so much for this ask and feel free to send more if you have thoughts or questions! I love being made to actually think about the logic of my world!

[rescuefield-arch1]

If Claire is specialised in healthcare, where does her job as reporter come from? (for the meta questions if you're still doing it)

hello anon, yes i'm always replying to meta questions!! thank you for sending one 💖

okay technically capcom never bothered to clarify what kind of job claire does because i guess they think people don't care, but for my version of claire it pretty much goes like this:

based on her attitude and personality she was probably advised to go to nursing school after graduation, which was fine to her. however i think claire struggled a little bit - not because she's dumb obviously, but because she thinks outside the box and the school system tends to be brutal to that kind of people, you know? so she still went to college, but applied for a EMT course. now if you know a bit about those, some can last months while others years. by 1998 claire had finished the basic one but never got to take the national certification exam.

so that's her next step. she gets to take the exam later in 1999 after her story is explained ( being a "contained zombie apocalypse survivor" has its perks sometimes ) after that she took another course for Advanced EMT and with that not only she got to find a stable job while trying to get sherry's custody, but eventually became helpful when terrasave gained traction and became a full fledged NGO rather than just a college movement.

now that we have this part done and over, here's the reporter part:

claire could be considered an investigative reporter, but the thing is that she doesn't have a degree for it. her anger about what happened to the citizens of RC, to her, sherry and leon, even what happened to steve - all of these singular things are what fuel her end of the pact about taking umbrella down. she researches and documents and writes on her blog everything that can lead people to knowing the truth about umbrella ( at least at the beginning, then as we know it got messier ) and once again ending up under terrasave radar grants for her voice to be heard - and so the other millions of voices that corporates try to shut up.

so her career as a reporter comes out of nowhere, is kind of granted to her due to the fact that she survived RC, she survived many other outbreaks too and knows what she's talking about, and lastly - she's has a very particular way to write about these events, very empathetic and feelings driven, you can absolutely tell that she cares about these topics even tho her investigation method borders insanity and usually involves breaking laws.

a good example of what i said above is her report in heavenly island. i'm not sure how useful chris found it ( she did sidetrack a bit with those "here's what they're doing now" stories lol ) yet it keeps you hooked, it makes you worry for the people involved. she's a legend if you ask me, could absolutely write a book of she put her mind into it.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

380 of 2022

What is your username? You can see it. :P

How tall are you? 180 cm.

How old are you? I'm 32.

What are your pronouns? I'm male, so he/him by default.

Do you have any siblings? One sister.

how many pets do you have? Two cats.

Are you still in school? No. I'm on a break from uni and from my job.

What county where you born in? Belgium.

What is your zodiac? Taurus.

What is your favorite month? Anything between May and September.

ED RELATED QUESTIONS!

1. are you diagnosed?

Yes.

2. How tall are you?

You asked that.

3. How much do you weigh?

65 kg or so.

4. What is your BMI?

Still in healthy range. 20.1 it says.

5. How many calories did you eat today?

I don't count calories. I eat less than I'm supposed to anyway.

6. What are your fear foods?

Red meat, mostly. And sweets.

7. What is your goal BMI?

15.4, according to the charts.

8. Does anyone know about your BMI?

I think most people don't pay attention to such things, unless you are visibly underweight or overweight. But then, people tend to think I weigh much less than I actually do.

9. How old where you when it all started?

14 or 15, somewhere around this age.

10. Do you exercise?

Five times a day.

11. Do you binge?

No, I don't.

12. What is your worst symptom?

I have epilepsy, so not eating is likely to trigger seizures in me.

13. Do you like food?

I love it but I hate it. If that makes sense.

14. Who is your biggest trigger?

No one.

15. Did you drink water today?

I can't stand pure water, so no.

MENTAL HEALTH QUESTIONS! 1. Have you been diagnosed with anything?

GAD, OCD  and ASD.

2. Do you see a therapist?

Not at the moment. I see physiotherapists, but it's not what the quesytion is about.

4. Are you taking any medications?

Yes, but not for mental things. My mental problems come straight up from my physical health problems.

5. Have you ever self-h*rmed?

Yes. I used to cut myself and I have scars not only on my forearms, but also on my thighs and stomach.

6. How often do you see a therapist?

I don't.

7. Do you have a support system?

Like, healthcare? Yeah, it's very good here.

8. What is your mood right now on a scale of 1 to 10?

7, I guess.

9. Do your parents know?

I'm 32, so they can't do anything, even though they know.

10. How old where you when you got diagnosed?

Anxiety and OCD at the age of 20, ASD at the age of 25. I was pretty late with it.

[kanyniablue]

hello yes i am insane & also potentially dangerous at this time

[skzdreams]

Breeding Clinic

pairings: Minho x FemReader

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral, breeding, healthcare setting, slight dumbification

genre: smut

summary: special doctors visit with Lee Know

word count: 2.5k

a/n: long time no see!! I really hope you guys enjoy!!

‐---------------------

You sat in the cold waiting room, shaking with nerves, as the a/c marked your skin with a colony of goosebumps. You tapped your feet on the hard ground, listening to silence that was broken by an occasional murmur or cough from a distance.

You tried scrolling on your phone to make the time go a bit quicker but you couldn’t quite stay entertained because your thoughts were being overwhelmed by what-ifs and the sentence “am I making the right decision” over and over like a bad song stuck on repeat.

Then you heard it.

“Number 325…?” A man called out, wearing blue scrubs, with sandy bleached blond hair, and facial features so sharp and perfect, all you could do was stand there for a few seconds and take in his good looks.

“Uh, I think that’s me.” You held up a little white card with the number 325 in bold black letters spread across it. Of course it was you. You were the only person in the room.

The man smiled gently. “Perfect. You’re not confused are you…? The number system can be quite confusing. But in a facility..such as this one..it is quite different from a…how should I say…normal..hospital. For pretty obvious reasons, the names of our patients are completely confidential. We fully respect the privacy of our patients. Even the personnel and staff at this facility are unaware of our patients’ names.”

His talking somewhat overwhelmed you, so the only thing you could really say back was,”Oh, okay, I guess I understand.”

He guided you into a room with dim lighting and the most comfortable exam table you’ve ever seen. “Okay 325, you can just take a seat on the examination table right there, and I’m going to ask you a few questions. Most of them are just to confirm the information you filled out before your appointment, and others are to ensure your overall enjoyment and comfortability of this experience. Is that alright with you?”

You agreed and allowed the man to move on with his quick questionnaire.

“You are fully aware of the nature of this clinic and your appointment that is being conducted at this insemination, or otherwise known as breeding clinic today, correct?”

“Yes, I do.” You responded back.

“Alright then.” He scribbled down on a notepad in the palm of his hand.

“And you do know where you are, and the exact reason you are here?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He continued asking different questions like, “Do you smoke at all?” , “Do you drink alcohol often, how often?” , “Do you use any elicit or recreational substances?” , “Do you typically have regular periods?” “Are you currently sexually active?”

You responded to all of his questions. He continuously assured you that the questions were necessary for your enjoyment of the appointment and to make sure that you’re healthy enough to go into the procedure without any unwanted complications.

“Okay so I see here that you have opted for the manual method of insemination with us today, is that correct?”

“Yes that’s correct.” you mumbled.

“There are many other ways to get the outcome of this procedure, however this specific method you have chose will require a live male assistant, that is okay with you?:”

You nodded your head while looking at the floor, kind of embarrassed. He could see that you were getting shy on him, so he did his best to try to cheer you up. “There’s no need to feel embarrassed. Most of our patients choose the manual method as well, because it is more enjoyable for both parties. We are all professionals here, so there is no need to feel any sort of shame. I know some people are also pretty skeptical of this method, because it does not always have a 100% success rate, however this isn't the 2080s anymore and with our new tech, test systems, and genetic alterations, all of our male assistants have been proven to successfully inseminate on the first attempt.”

You were happy to know that you wouldn’t be coming here for nothing and that your future pregnancy would be guaranteed. But this man was so handsome. You weren’t even worried about the baby you’ve always dreamt of having. He was the perfect distraction. All you wanted then, was him on top of you, taking you, and planting his seed inside of you. Using your body for his pleasure.

The way his hair covered his forehead lightly and slightly glided along with his movements each time he moved to the side, or when he looked up at you from his clipboard and notepad with sparkling eyes and damp lips and rosy cheeks, as he showed off his warm smile, sometimes with his small bunny like teeth poking through his perfect lips. He was beautiful. You saw his picture, when you were applying for your procedure, and just knew you had to have him as your assistant, but seeing him in real life like this was way better than you expected.

“When you were filling out your paperwork for this appointment, you chose what male assistant you would like to assist you with your insemination today, is that correct?”

“Yes that is correct.” You said trying to push back your smile that was trying to force its way past your lips.

“Now, If you haven’t noticed yet, I am the male assistant that you selected. If for whatever reason, you have second thoughts or would like to change your assist-”

“NO!!” you loudly interrupted him. “I definitely do not want another assistant. You’re perfect.”

He chuckled quietly to himself, not believing how cute you are right now. “Very enthusiastic, are we?” He laughed. “I’ll continue. Since you are already in the gown, would you go ahead and lean back all the way on the table, and try your best to relax. I know it’s a bit cold here, so I'll just..” He got out of his seat and walked over to the thermostat on the wall. He quickly bumped the heat up a few times so you could get nice, warm, and cozy. Or at least try to.

“I know it can be a little hard to relax right now, some of our patients find the clinic to be exciting, while others might be super nervous. But, we try to make the experience as pleasant, and comfortable as possible. Do you mind putting your legs in the stirrups here?

You were barefoot, the only form of clothes on your body was the hospital gown you changed into when you walked into the clinic’s private waiting rooms. When your foot touched the cold metal of the stirrups it sent chills throughout your body.

“Before we begin, I need to make sure the area of insemination is fully prepared for the procedure.” He got up out of his chair and kneeled on the floor, your pussy just mere inches away from his face. His hand trailed up the inside of your thighs, when coming back down he let his fingernails gently graze against your skin which made you hiss.

Without warning, your doctor dove in and covered your pussy with his mouth, sucking and licking all of your soft spots. His tongue flipped up and down on your clit that was growing more and more sensitive by the second. He licked up and down your slit, licking up almost every bit of wetness you were gushing out. He stuck his tongue inside of you, just a little bit which made your body jolt and spasm, barely even being able to handle the feeling of him. “Mmm” he hummed into your pussy making your clit vibrate along with the noise. You were honestly just a moaning mess, not even being able to speak with real words. He pulled away from your pussy, not letting you finish because he didn't want to make you cum quite yet.

“Did that feel alright?”

“Y-yes oh my god.”

He just chuckled to himself quietly like he was proud of himself.”Good now we’re going to move on to the next thing.”

The doctor slipped on a pair of blue surgical gloves. He got up and sat back in his chair. He spun around and grabbed a large bottle with the word “Trojan Lubricants” in big letters at the top of it.

He popped the cap up and squirted a quarter size dollop of the clear gel-like liquid on the tip of his two middle fingers. He set the bottle back on the desk behind him and looked back up at you again. But that didn't last long because his eyes shot right down to your pussy that was already glistening with wetness. It wasn’t often that you were exposed and displayed to a man like this, especially not a stranger, even if he was technically your doctor.

“Wow it seems you’re already producing your own natural lubricant, but I’m still going to use a little bit of this to kind of further prepare you.”

Finally he rubbed the lube on your entrance, that was pulsuing and clenching around nothing, just yearning to be fucked into. You jumped, surprised by the coldness of the gel hitting you so abruptly. It quickly began to warm up as the man began rubbing you up and down.

“I can see you are becoming less nervous by the way you're grinding against my hand like that, hm? That’s a good sign.” His thumb grazed and pressed against your sensitive and swollen clit. You lightly jolted back against the back of the exam table, already feeling too good.

Slowly, he pushed his middle finger inside of you. The feeling of the coolness of the glove and the wetness of the lube was almost euphoric. You gasped at the feeling of the stretch that his one single finger was already giving you.

He began to fuck his finger into you faster and faster.

“For this to work most effectively, we will act as how an ordinary couple would go about sexual intercourse. We do this so our patients feel comfortable and have an enjoyable, natural experience, as well as our staff because we are able to have a more…successful insemination, if we are also enjoying ourselves. And for comfortability, you can call me “Lino”. Of course this is not my real name, but if you later on in our procedure, need to address me, then Lino is the name you’ll address me by.”

He spoke to you in such a calm and collected way as if his finger wasn’t fucking into, causing your pussy to make gushing and shloshing noises that echoed off the seemingly thin walls.

“Fuck your pussy is clenching so fucking thight against my fingers.” It was obvious that your doctor was becoming hornier and hornier for you at that moment. It seemed as though it was a little bit more to him, you didn’t feel like any other patient. You felt like his. For him to fuck and kiss and make love to one day. He just watched your beautiful face as he drove his finger into your core, making you already so fucked out.

Lino pulled his finger out of you slowly, not letting you cum for a second time.

Lino climbed on top of you which made the exam table under you crinkle and crease, adjusting to the weight of you both.

He kissed you. That was not part of the procedure.

You were surprised but quickly got used to the feeling of his lips on yours as you began to feel the softness of his lips, and the taste, god, you just couldn't get enough.

Your hands scrambled all over his body trying to find a way to just rip off everything he had on and reveal his undoubtedly beautiful body. You could feel him smiling in between kisses.

He continued rubbing your clit, occasionally shoving his fingers in you, making you jolt and twitch under his touch.

He stood up and frantically started to take his scrubs off.

He pulled his pants down, and conveniently wasn't wearing any underwear whatsoever.

His hard cock bounced up and down, finally being freed from the confines of his tightening boxers.

Lino finally managed to get all of his clothes completely off. He walked closer to you, eyes full of lust, desire, and need for you. For the feeling of you around his member. He needed you digging your nails into his back as he was rutting into you. He needed you not to be able to speak, or even think. He needed you to be fucked dumb. He needed to be the one to fuck you dumb.

He mounted himself back on top of you. You felt his leaking tip against your sopping entrance. He leaned in for another kiss as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. He groaned into your mouth as you did to his, getting used to the feeling of your doctor stretching you out.

He began thrusting in and out of you, pace quickening after each.

He was just breathing loudly into the crook of your neck as he began thrusting faster and faster until he was rutting into you so hard and so quick, the exam table beneath the two of you was making an almost blaring crinkle sound.

The exam table’s crinkle, Lino’s moans, your moans, the sound of his cock sloppily sloshing into your pussy, the claps of your skin meeting each other with every thrust, all the sounds mushing together into a song that only intensified the euphoric feeling that was bubbling and growing inside you by the second.

Your vision was fuzzy, your speech slurred and spotty. Watching you in the fucked out state made Lino go absolutley feral. He, somehow, began railing into you harder than before, each one more powerful than than the last. For a second,you could try to look down to watch the beautiful scene of his cock making its tight squeeze through your entrance. You saw his thigh muscles flexing and relaxing every so often, he was obviously trying to restrain himself.

“C-cum.” you speaked. You looked up at Minho’s blurred face,trying your best to hear the muffled words he began to utter to you. “You want my cum? Huh baby? You want my cum?

All you could do is nod frantically as a sly smirk spread across your lover’s chin.

“O-oh oh FUCK.” He said as warm spurts of his seed coated your insides. He didn’t pull out, he instead, just slowed down his thrust and leaned in to give your cheeks, lips, forehead, neck, basically any and every part of your body that he could reach without having to pull out of your heavenly pussy. You both just layed there, tangled in each other, as you both tried to calm down, lino still pumping inside of you every few moments, still finding little nooks and crannies of your body that he could softly pepper kisses on.

You both knew, this wouldn’t be the last time you will see eachother.

[yourheartonfire]

"It has come to my attention," the villain said, steepling their fingers, "that you have been, shall we say, moonlighting."

The henchman blinked back at them guilelessly. "Well, yeah, boss. I though that was allowed, s'long as it didn't interfere with our work here."

The villain couldn't contain themselves any longer. "You're moonlighting as a hero!" they shrieked. "You're putting on a costume and fighting crime on the weekends!"

"Well, yeah." The henchman settled themselves in their chair a bit more comfortably, still with the same faintly puzzled look on their face. "But I thought you and the organization didn't care what I did on my off hours? That was part of the pitch when you recruited me away from the Hero Agency. Healthy work life balance, no after hours demands, and no morality clauses."

"Yes, but I - You can't -!" the villain sputtered. This was not going at all how they expected. They took a deep breath and got ahold of themselves. "That's true. No... morality clauses here. But there are rules about conflict of interest."

The henchman nodded earnestly. "That's why I stick to street crime, stopping muggings, burglaries, overaggressive cops. Nothing like the high-end work we do here, boss. This is just some light vigilante-ism. You know, to keep my hand in.”

“One wonders,” the villain said, rubbing the growing headache in their temples, “why you even work in villainy with such a sunny view of the world.”

“Healthcare,” the henchman said promptly, crossing an ankle over their knee. “I’m saving thousands of dollars a year on your Gold-class plans! I go to the hospital a lot and they ask no questions when they see the group number. The Hero Agency only offered high deductible HMOs.”

“You see? Hypocrites!” the villain cried. “Yet you still ally yourself with their cause?”

“Well, they’d do more if they could, but the Agency’s budget’s been slashed to ribbons,” the henchman shrugged. “You remember that bill to defund the Agency. I heard you paid millions to fund that ‘Stop Subsidizing Supers’ campaign.”

“Yes,” the villain breathed out. “I did.”

There was a long pause. The henchman folded their hands across their stomach and maintained their expression of placid cheer.

“Okay,” the villain said sweetly. “I can see your side of things. But we need to talk about the optics of you working for me, but still playing for the other team on the weekends.”

“Golly, boss,” the henchman said, “that sounds like we’re drifting into morality clause territory to me.”

“Oh, but I’m worried about you,” the villain cooed. “How will your co-workers react when they find out? Will they be able to trust you to have their back?”

“Most everybody already knows,” the henchman said. For the first time their eyes slid to the side. “There were some... awkward moments, especially from the other guys who freelance on weekends, but we worked it out. Did you know what happened when Bill’s kid got car jacked last summer?”

“Wait. Let me guess,” the villain said into their hand.

“Found the guys and beat the shit out of them!” the henchman said cheerfully. “And got Ninette’s stolen TV and game consoles back from the cops' evidence locker, and I’m working on the guys extorting protection money out of Tuvo’s grandma’s restaurant. I mean, we’re all here, working for you ‘cause the system let us down some way and we understand we all got our ways of dealing with it. You really put together a great team, boss-”

“Shut the fuck up.” The villain drew their weapon and took some sour satisfaction in how wide the henchman’s eyes got. Not quite as brave and definitely not as stupid as they pretended, then. “I see the game, thanks. I’m debating if I should shoot you or promote you.”

“Um.” The henchman swallowed, eyes not leaving the barrel of the ray gun. “If you’re asking, I think my work performance has shown that I’m ready for additional responsibilities, and, not to brag, but my co-workers already look to me as a de facto leader-”

The villain clicked the safety off. The henchman’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click of teeth. 

“So true,” the villain said thoughtfully. “You really do embody the spirit of this organization. Done. Bill’s taking over the docks operation, so you’re stepping up to his spot. Go let him know he’s got a month to train you up.”

“Oh. Um.” The henchman blinked rapidly. “Thank you, um. I’m glad you’re not mad about the other thing...?” 

“Get out.”

The henchman peeled out of there. The villain waited until the door slammed to holster their weapon again. Having employees was fun but God, managing was exhausting. Hopefully the henchman would feel the same way and that would solve this little problem. Still, the villain made a mental note to keep an eye on that one - and to have a little word with HR about headhunting new hires out of the Agency.

"Morality clause," the villain grumbled under their breath and got back to work.

[bitchesgetriches]

Hi bitches, I'm a bit nervous to ask this but I'm being genuine I promise. I don't want you to think I'm some biggoted old fool.

Could you please help me understand how sex work isn't exploitative? I hear a lot of people saying "it's just the same as normal work, it's better than my job at Amazon/target/wherever and no one is calling that work exploitative" or "well you wouldn't do YOUR job if you didn't have to either" but like, checkout work IS hella exploitative??? Most work IS hella bullshit that only exists to feed the capitalist machine. I DO fight for a world where work is a choice. I understand why The Right would love onlyfans, but why is The Left lining up to defend it?

Sex work - especially things like onlyfans - is overwhelmingly done by the poor or as a way to escape poverty ("I was being paid shit in my previous job, now I can afford an apartment" is something I hear a lot). But in doing so it transfers all the risks to them, it's essentially turning sex work into the gig/hustle economy, isn't it? You end up on a zero hour contract with no union, health, benefit, maternity protection, in a job that can be hella dangerous and have serious emotional repercussions and requires huge emotional labour and/or disconnect and I don't really understand why we're just cheering this along?

I don't object on moral grounds. Sex is sex. Consenting adults do what you want. People are well within their moral and legal rights to choose to sell sex, (or the emotional labour that comes with it), or photos, or whatever they want - just like they are free to go work for target. I absolutely understand the need to - and support - decriminalisation of sex work, the need to make it safe and secure for sex workers, but I just can't see why ~the world at large~ sees huge numbers of young 18 year old women being herded and encouraged into joining Onlyfans - in several cases with people saying "can't wait for you to turn 18 so you can have an OF" so the patriarchy can pay £3-4 a month to see their tits and people cheer this along? One or two get rich, I'm sure, but who is getting REALLY rich? It's the old white men that own onlyfans and take a 20% cut, as always. It's the patriarchy working as it always has. Allowing one or two women to succeed while holding the rest down for exploitation. Except now it's mixing with the worst bits of 21st C capitalism, too. Surely all OnlyFans is is Uber for Sex work, using the gig economy to de-unionise and isolate workers, strip them of benefits, make them into independent contractors and profit off them?

Sure, it's a step up from kidnapping girls from Romania to have them do porn, but is that really the bar? Can we maybe just stop for a second and imagine a world where rich white men don't get richer off the emotional and physical labour of women? Where the other available work options aren't so shit that a zero-hour career with no employment protections, a limited lifespan, in a dangerous industry doesnt look like heaven in comparison? Sure, you can work for three years, sell your emotional labour, and pay for college. But why are we cheering that instead of asking why this has to happen in the first place? We're fiddling around the edges of the system, giving it a makeover, and rebadging it "female empowerment" instead of actually changing anything fundamental. Poor women sell sex. A few are allowed to break out. Men get to leer at naked women for pennies a year. Rich men get richer. Plus ça change. Not even to mention that because of the ~emotional~ connection that onlyfans gives beyond porn, we're embedding the idea that women are "money in, girlfriend out" machines. I know several girls that won't even *talk* to men in any situation without a minimum $50 fee. And apparently the fact we also have a crisis of men so lonely they're willing to pay this isn't a problem either? Where's our luxury communism dreams bitches?

Bitches, I trust you. What am I missing?

I don’t think you’re a bigoted old fool. Nor a prude! I think you’re incredibly enlightened about the dangers of unfettered capitalism and labor exploitation.

Almost all of the issues you highlight about exploitative sex work can be said about exploitative labor in any industry. Poor people taking shitty jobs that don’t pay enough and enrich capitalist, patriarchal corporate overlords? That happens all over the world in industries from meat packing to clothing sweat shops to, yes, sex work. The exploitation of a person’s body for labor is an ethical stain on our culture at large. It’s why we’re so in favor of labor rights advances including a higher minimum wage, unions, and humane work environments. 

Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make Our Lives Better 

Are Unions Good or Bad? 

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights 

Sex work is not unique in that it opens desperate and poor people up to labor exploitation. It’s not even uniquely dangerous to the bodies of workers--John Oliver did a bit on the US meat packing industry recently that made me faint with body horror. 

So we agree that labor exploitation is bad. And it’s something that we should work towards ending in every industry. But I can see why some people would view exploitative sex work to be a different kind of bad. Because sex is sensitive! It can be used to punish and hurt. See revenge porn and the way synonyms for “sex worker” are stigmatized and used as insults throughout society. 

Now, a few clarifications. When I refer to sex work, I’m not just talking about cam work on OnlyFans. There are lots of other outlets for many different kinds of sex work. And I’m also not just talking about women sex workers. People of all gender identities and sexualities do sex work, and we should advocate for fair labor practices and safety for all of them. I am firmly pro- decriminalizing sex work so that the industry can be made safe, regulated, and destigmatized in an effort to reduce exploitation. I want sex workers to have the power of collective bargaining! I want them to be protected by law enforcement and our justice system, instead of targeted by it! I want them to pay taxes and have the privileges associated with all tax paying workers! I want them to have the power and protection of a regulatory industry that will purge abusive and violent clients from their field!

I also disagree with the characterization that choosing sex work freely, even out of desperation, is a “step up from kidnapping a girl from Romania to have them do porn.” Human trafficking is not sex work. It’s slavery and torture. Even when the choice is between making $7.25 an hour working at WalMart and making $7.25 as a cam girl, there’s still a choice involved, even if it’s a shitty one. There’s consent. Trafficking victims have no choice, no consent, only violence. 

I honestly don’t want to start a debate here. We’re all on the same page that labor exploitation is bad. So I’ll just end with this: not all sex work is inherently exploitative. Which I guess is your real question!

I’ve mentioned before that I have friends who are former sex workers. Specifically strippers and a specialty dominatrix. As with any job, they had their ups and downs, their good nights and bad nights. But they all agree that they freely chose the work not out of desperation or a lack of other options. And they even enjoyed the work in some cases. If someone prefers sex work, thrives in giving that emotional labor to others, I’m not going to judge and I’m certainly not going to tell them they’re being exploited. It would frankly be insulting, condescending, to tell someone that their choice of work (when it truly is a choice) is bad for them. 

It’s a fine line, but the line does exist. Sex work CAN BE exploitative. But it is not inherently exploitative, as far as I’m concerned. 

[not-a-space-alien]

I think it's disingenuous to pretend that the only reason people would criticize gender-neutral language around menstruation, childbirth, etc, is because of transphobia. It's a good concept, but the actual execution of it varies widely. Deployments like "pregnant person" seem fairly innocuous and positive to me, but some of the more artificial-sounding constructs like birthing person and uterus haver.... It's only natural that someone in a very vulnerable medical state could feel uncomfortable being referred to like that, especially in communities that have a shaky relationship with the medical system to begin with. Moreover going out of your way to gender-neutralize something that's not exclusive is unnecessary--most women have a uterus and most people who have a uterus are women and it's not transphobic to acknowledge that, so saying something like "women are hugely affected by abortion laws" isn't necessarily trans-exclusionary because it's not saying nobody else is, or only women are. I think there is genuinely a good conversation that can be had about how to balance introducing novel vocabulary that avoids alienating transgender people (and people who, say, have had surgeries and can no longer get pregnant, etc ), but....

I think it's an insidious tell behind the real driving force that the blame for this gets hefted onto trans women, the group that arguably has the least amount to do with this. Radfem blogs are full of pages and pages of vitriol towards uses of gender-neutral language to avoid offending "men" (ie, trans women), but that stuff has never been about trans women. It's there for trans men. Acknowledging a pregnant person might not be a woman is for the benefit of trans men. Writing insurance policies so people can get OBGYN care regardless of assigned sex at birth is so trans men can get healthcare. Decoupling menstruation and childbirth from being a woman is to avoid triggering dysphoria in trans men. Saying men can be affected by abortion laws also is to help trans men. It seems like everyone in a frothing rage over it has just....assumed that it was done because they were afraid trans women would get mad about it? Or that it's offensive to trans women? Was this ever actually an issue or are trans women just a convenient scapegoat?

And another thing they pretty much always say is "nobody is saying penis-haver or sperm-producer" and..... They're not saying those things as much, because we're not having a national debate about whether or not dmab people can get sterilized or something right now, but they are saying those things. They're just saying them....in-context. yes it's offensive if you refer to a trans woman as a "penis-haver" in a context where there's no reason to do that. It's because you're obviously trying to trigger dysphoria on purpose. If I said something like "I wear a condom when I have sex with anyone who could get me pregnant" nobody bats an eye because that's an appropriate and inclusive way to talk about it. And if you ever see it unbalanced where they say something like "birthing person and father," guess what! That's hypocritical and inconsistent, and also the actual part that's exclusionary to trans women, so go ahead and say something like "why are we assuming the person who did the impregnation is male?" if you want to!

[halfusek]

I saw your reblog of the Squid Game analysis and I was just wondering...Are you okay with communism/socialist ideologies? I mean, you're a commie/socialist yourself? Of yes, why? Don't mean to be rude or anything, it's just a genuine question

well! i think that post is pretty self explanatory? i dunno if you read it but it explains a few things that suck about capitalism that are portrayed in the show (because squid game is criticism of capitalism)

i really see myself as more of a centrist if you can even say something like that truly exist: most politicians swing to the right, what's called "the left" is usually something less right or centrist, at least from what i've observed in countries where i'm more familiar with politics

i actually had/have a pretty hard time talking about modern "communism" and socialism because i come from a country that got really traumatized by soviets and communism by extension so i've basically always associated it negatively but i try to be more open minded

i don't wanna dedicate myself to praising any sort of system, i want to be critical and see what's good or bad about each of them

i personally really dislike when people put up communism/socialism on a pedestal because from the history of my country i know very well its not perfect and in fact you can use that system for horrible terrible things too so when people don't think critically of it that makes me really worried history may repeat itself someday

(and if someone denies soviets doing anything wrong then i hope they get hit by a car </3 i've seen/heard of asinine takes like that)

also i'm not at all comfortable with using ussr imageries (even just in memes), they make me feel in similiar ways seeing nazi imageries does

like would it really be so hard for socialist to use a different flag and symbols haha people were tortured and killed and terrorized in the name of this one but whatever that's not what you're asking me about i just wanted to put it out somewhere

capitalism did help the situation in my country after it was freed from the influence of ussr so i dont and cannot think that its straight up evil

that made it also kinda hard for me for a while to be critical of capitalism and think positively of socialist ideas but i've been trying to educate myself, i talked to various people who have different views and my horizons got broader

so yes capitalism is flawed and socialism isnt perfect but it surely has a lot of good ideas that can improve our quality of life and its not like capitalism doesnt have fucked up past and well present

i take one look at america and its clear to me that it needs more socialist ideas there, like... god free healthcare just should be everywhere. period. i cant imagine being afraid to call an ambulance because of a huge bill that would come after

so i guess my position is complex haha? but yep i am okay with those and i think a lot of them are very good, its just that the image of socialism was pretty demonized because of the past

countries like the scandinavian ones implement plenty of socialist ideas and they are doing great and ive lived in one and i was amazed at how easy it is to just function as a citizen there

i'm being there a bit more honest than i should maybe but i think we should try to explain and conversate calmly about these topics, especially that i myself would get just angry at a mere mention of socialism few years ago because of the way i was raised and the politics i was mainly familiar with sooo maybe my progress on getting better with being critical of systems like that can help someone else idk

i know past me definitely would have used that instead of hearing "capitalism evil" or "communism evil" only all the time without no further (calm) elaboration lol

[thefirsthogokage]

So, I fully believe all medication should be free, but I know even in the best healthcare system it would be at best little cost.

I know a lot of doctors can be shit at their jobs and pharmacists can be assholes and insurance companies are always shit in at least some capacity.

However, that doesn't mean all medications should be available over the counter without a prescription.

Most people don't do research on medications even when they are prescribed or before they take over the counter medications. So, if medications are available to everyone without a prescription, people will just start buying them willy-nilly without knowing anything about them.

You take a medication for something you think you have, but don't? You could end up killing yourself.

Doctors go to medical school for a reason. They specialize in different areas for a reason. There are thousands and thousands of medications out there, and not all of them get along, and some medication combinations can cause lethal side effects.

There are many medications where the wrong dose can kill you. There are medications that you have to know the potential side effect of, because some of those side effects can be life-threatening. And letting a bunch of people who don't do research and haven't studied for years about prescribing medications is a BAD idea.

Wanna know some meds that could kill you if you don't know a thing or two about them? Ok:

If you take Lamictal (which is an anticonvulsant that also can help with the mood swings of bipolar disorder) and increase it too fast, or stopped taking it at a high dose and want to restart at that high dose, and you get a very specific kind of rash? That's something that means you stop taking the medication immediately and get your ass to the hospital right away or you could die.

You take methimazole (for your thyroid being an asshole) and start getting a rash? Guess what! You gotta stop taking that too because that could also be fatal.

You stop your Xanax or Clonazepam cold turkey? That could cause seizures.

You get your hands on some ADHD meds because you think you have ADHD and you don't and take them at some random dose because you don't know how that works and you don't have ADHD? Well good luck on surviving that overdose!

There are also medications out there are the exact opposite of what you should be taking for some illnesses. Exact opposite as in they could kill you.

The general public doesn't spend years studying all of this. Doctors and pharmacists do.

You don't want your pilot or bus driver or the dude next door with the Katana collection to suddenly start taking meds that they never did research on, and end up not taking the right medication or the right dose and things go very, very wrong, do you?

Didn't think so.

Once again, yes, I know not all doctors and pharmacists are created equal, and some of them should have never been allowed into their profession in the first place, or need to be kicked out because they certainly shouldn't be doing it anymore. But there are plenty of them that do their jobs and paid attention to their training, and have done their own research, and studied things about meds that most people don't even think about.

(And for the record: Yes all insurance companies are heartless monsters.)

I completely understand there are many fucked up things about healthcare in many countries. But there is a reason getting prescriptions is a thing. And that is a whole system set up differently than people buying weapons and other things that can be used to harm others. Those things can't even be compared.

There are many good reasons why people need to be qualified to prescribe medications. And the general public is never going to be responsible enough to at least actually do the research on their own, but probably also become knowledgeable enough about dosing to do that properly.

Prescriptions are a thing for a reason.

[brattybookclub]

A BDSMer’s Perspective on THAT Open Heart Diamond Scene

*WARNING: Discussions of NSFW content and BDSM done properly and poorly*

Hi, this is Cath! A major area of interest to me is BDSM, and while I am still a newbie (sadly my journey into the BDSM community was halted due to the pandemic, but that aside, I’ve been doing research since I was a teenager), I was able to identify several problems with the Ethan scene, from a BDSM perspective. This is meant to criticize PB, as I feel that this shows arrogance on their part, and that they just saw the Chapters ad for “Hard To Master” and decided “Hey, we should do that too!” (This will be kind of long.)

Something I didn’t see much discussion on was the fact that towards the end of the scene, Ethan says, “I’ve just never met someone whose appetites could match my own.” Meaning, Ethan has ZERO hands on BDSM experience. And neither does MC. Most of my criticism comes from the fact that neither of them is actually experienced. Hell, I have more experience than they do, and I’m a college student who has to save up for my kink gear, including collars. Yes, a top can practice alone on themselves, but Ethan and MC do very little negotiation. Most of the communication is taking place during the kinky activities, which there’s nothing wrong with, that works for some people, but it seems like the safeword was just there for decoration, and the diamond scene doesn’t really live up to “dark passion”.

When I saw that the scene was in the chapter, obviously I did not buy it, but I was shocked and kind of upset because the way PB marketed the scene was that it was some dark taboo activity where Ethan lets out his inner beast. This isn’t the case. I’m going to start from the beginning here. The context is that Ethan has just demonstrated that he cannot be trusted to maintain the integrity of an important medical study that could lead to breakthroughs in the industry. He showed arrogance and disregard for ethics. This is the backdrop for him asking to dominate MC. Just based on that, MC should say no. BDSM can be an escape from a frustrating day, to regain or give up control, but if one of my partners was going to lose their job, I would not trust them to dominate me that day. If Ethan is in this bad of a headspace, he could hurt MC during their activities (and not in the fun way) and make it worse. Second, HE ASKS AT THEIR JOB, WHERE HE IS MC’S SUPERIOR. The ethics of boss/employee relationship aside, that is blind to the power dynamic built into their workplace. This is the only point PB gives you the choice to consent until later, during the activities. In my opinion, this fucks up the Consent aspect of Safe, Sane, and Consensual, while Ethan’s current headspace and his actions prevent it from being Sane.

I know so many people have said this before me, but the way Ethan says what he wants is probably the grossest way of saying that. “… I need to feel in control of myself… and of you.” Ethan, you are in control of yourself. And saying that he “needs” to feel in control of MC… No. No, no, no. Submission is a gift that you do not take lightly, and must be given voluntarily. You do not ask someone for it without discussion first. And there is no discussion of what MC’s submission style is? Is MC a service submissive, are they a brat, are they a little? What if MC is a top or likes to be dominant? Nor does Ethan discuss what style of dominance he is into. Now that I think about it, there’s not a lot of power exchange. But it’s not just a top/bottom style activity either… Does PB know that you can participate in kinky activities with no power exchange, and that you can do power exchange without pain? It feels like they’ve just lumped all of it together. This scene fails to have any sort of distinct identity. It smells of a couple trying to spice it up in the bedroom and only reading about BDSM off of Cosmopolitan and Buzzfeed, and not really knowing what they’re doing.

As soon as MC and Ethan get to his place, he decides to pour you both some scotch. NO. NO, NO, NO NO. I have been to a discussion amongst EXPERIENCED kinksters about whether dungeons or events should offer alcohol, and it’s controversial because things can go wrong in a PUBLIC kink setting. For inexperienced people, especially with how bad Ethan’s headspace is at this time, and the fact that he claimed he wanted to “feel in control” of MC and himself, he should NOT be touching any alcohol. And over the drinks, Ethan and MC can discuss the events of the day when they could be, I don’t know, talking about what they are about to do??? Because MC has no idea what Ethan’s intentions are, exactly. Later, Ethan gives MC choices for what they can do; either he ties them to the bed, spanks them, or he decides (on all the playthroughs I have seen, Ethan deciding leads to him spanking MC). But they are already in the kink scene. You know how you should never go grocery shopping hungry? Well, you shouldn’t make kinky decisions, especially as a newbie, when you’re horny. They could have used this time to discuss if either of them has experience, and I must repeat, you don’t find out that Ethan has none till after you two finish. Ethan doesn’t tell MC any risks of what they do; if they might be bruised by anything he does, or if something will hurt after they finish. This is not following RACK; Risk Aware Consensual Kink. MC is not able to give informed consent. There’s also no discussion of limits or pain tolerance and… good fucking lord, this is a setup for shit going wrong.

So anyway, after their discussion of the day’s events, and Ethan’s feelings, MC assures him that they don’t want tender (hey, PB… BDSM can be tender!!! Also affectionate, loving, and sweet!!!!) so Ethan gives them a leather body harness and tells them to meet him in the bedroom. My initial reaction was, “How did he have their size, and how did he have that on hand?” I did some research, a lot of body harnesses are adjustable. Still pretty weird that he just had a women’s body harness on hand with no experience. I mean the men’s kind of makes sense because maybe he’s a switch, and as far as the handcuffs and riding crop despite no experience go… a lot of people hoard adult toys without using them much in case they do get the chance.

After MC puts on the harness, they meet Ethan in the bedroom and he asks them to pick a safeword. The default is “Free Healthcare” which fucking sucks as a safeword. The universal safeword is usually “Red” because of the traffic light system. When telling MC not to shy away from using it, he says, “You’re in control just as much as I am.” Uhhh… Who’s gonna tell him that the submissive has all the control? They decide what they consent to. The dominant operates within that. Also the part about, “This isn’t just about giving me what I need… It’s also about giving you what you want.” Yes… but also no. The dominant does not “need” their partner’s submission. It’s them mutually wanting what the other is willing to give. Also the “need” vs “want” feels… icky. So, so, icky.

From there to the options Ethan gives MC isn’t bad. I’ve had at least one of those exchanges in real life because it doesn’t feel cringe in the moment. Since MC and Ethan didn’t negotiate before the scene, I guess Ethan giving MC two options of what he can do to them, or he will decide between the two options if they want him to, isn’t that bad. I just think it would have been much better had there been communication beforehand since MC hasn’t done anything like that before. Thankfully it’s opt-in as opposed to opt-out, because opt-in is recommended for partners who are new to each other.

“Tie me to the bed.” Option: Ethan will muse about whether he should do rope or handcuffs. Maybe he has practiced with rope alone in the past and knows what he’s doing… But MC does not know this!! Mercifully, he picks handcuffs. Thank god he uses leather cuffs. PB has used metal ones in the past and those have all sorts of safety issues if they are not double-locking. PB is super vague about the setup so I’m a little confused about how he can be going down on MC then pull the chains of the cuffs so their back is against the headboard?

“Spank me.”/ “Choose.” Options: Ethan will get a riding crop, which is not at ALL recommended for newbies. I’ve actually had a friend demo a riding crop on my back, when I was fully clothed, but newbies are usually advised to either a) start off with a plain open hand spanking or b) test out how the implement feels by having the receiving partner rate the pain from a scale of 1 to 10 so one can get a feel for their pain tolerance, and how it changes as they are spanked longer. In my experience, it’s important to start out lighter especially with newbies. AND YET. “The first smack of the crop against your bare skin almost ends the game before it’s started.” NO NO NO. STOP STOP STOP. MC can barely take the first hit??? The first one should not push you to your limit, especially when it’s your first time. You may be wondering if riding crops actually sting that much. They don’t have to. It depends how much force you use. Side note, it is important for the top to know what each toy they are using feels like. Whether that means bottoming or testing the toy out on themselves, this makes sure they maintain empathy for their bottom. Anyway, MC gets hit by the riding crop like twice before this option converges with the sex part of the diamond scene. Really PB? You couldn’t at least say that the swats “rained down” or something? Two super intense hits is no fun compared to less intense spankings that last longer. In fact, if you change toys for different sensations, you can usually last longer, since the area gets more sensitive as you go along.

Anyway the sex happens. Ethan says, “Tell me what you want.” Which creates the options:

“Safeword/Free Healthcare” (God PB that’s so cringey, I get it’s a medical drama but just use Red!!!) Option: It instantly stops, Ethan is concerned, MC assures him that they just know their limits, which, good for you MC!! It’s not easy to safeword even when you want/need to. Though, I raise an eyebrow at the fact that you can safeword during the actual sex, as opposed to being tied up or spanked. I would think those would be where a person would be more likely to need to use their safeword especially if they are new to these activities.

“Harder.” Option: Gets more intense after Ethan asks if MC is sure. Goes into Ethan trying some orgasm control. Yay. Don’t see why this whole scene couldn’t have just been rough/wild sex since I’m pretty sure PB has done that before.

“Just like that…” Option: I think we can all guess what happens here.

I’m gonna fast forward through the rest of the sexcapades because there’s nothing interesting or worth critiquing. Safewording makes sure you skip all the rest of the scene and then it’s MC and Ethan in bed, him holding MC. I don’t want to say, “PB didn’t include aftercare!!” because cuddling is a lot of people’s aftercare, but I wish they’d talked about it more. Like Ethan asking if MC needed water or get out of the body harness, or some lotion or aloe vera for their butt if they got spanked. Or him checking their wrists if they got tied up. These are important things for aftercare, and while not everyone needs aftercare for every kind of activity, it’s important to talk about ahead of time, or communicate after the activity. Aftercare helps both parties come down gently from a high that you can easily just have an unpleasant drop from. I’ve gotten emotional after impact play. Some people feel guilt for inflicting pain on someone. Aftercare is necessary for the dominant or top as much as it is for the bottom or submissive, and I wish PB was as good about including that concept as they were about the safeword.

Anyway while they’re cuddling, MC and Ethan have the conversation where it leads to Ethan saying he’s never met anyone whose appetites match his own. While this might be acceptable for someone who lives in a small town… Ethan lives in Boston, Massachusetts. When looking up BDSM dungeons in Boston, I found two dominatrixes, and like three pages that talk about possible BDSM groups. And that’s not even checking on fetlife. Ethan simply didn’t want to look for like-minded people, and that’s on him. He could have found classes to help him learn how to do everything properly and safely, and maybe some friends. More people are kinky than you think!!! People in the community love it when new people join the community and express a desire to learn.

MC spends the night, and in the morning their sprite is STILL wearing the body harness. PB THOSE CANNOT BE COMFORTABLE. Like especially if it’s as fitted as they describe, how can MC still be wearing it?? Especially with them sweating on the leather??? Not going to lie, I laughed when I saw that oversight.

And that’s the end of the scene. Alright. The scene is not good. But it’s not Fifty Shades of Grey bad. I get the jokes and the comparisons, and while PB is arrogant, much like EL James, PB isn’t THAT bad. MC is clearly into the BDSM, which Anna clearly was not in 50 Shades. PB did a little bit of research, but I find it pretty obvious that aside from dirty talk, they have almost no experience actually getting into kinky activities, nor do they participate in the community.

I really hate how they acted like, “Ethan’s in dark mood…” but didn’t commit to that. Also how they didn’t really commit to portraying BDSM accurately. It’s kinky looking if you aren’t in the kink community, but to me, it’s vanilla pretending to be edgy and kinky. PB didn’t really commit one way or the other. They seemed to just use some iconography (excluding collars, surprisingly… that’s really easy to add??) and a little bit of kink, then set it aside and called it a day. This seemed to be there for the shock value. Going into the scene, I felt like SCC was being broken, but in the midst of the scene was a very different tone from what PB was acting like was going to happen. Ethan felt very different going into the scene as opposed to during it. I feel like this is what happens when you have to market kink to a mostly vanilla audience. Anyway, if you want a really great educational youtube channel, Evie Lupine is doing the lord’s work as a BDSM educator. Thank you for reading this 2500+ word rant from a kinky nerd.